"We'll take it all, and the women too!" agreed one of the riders.
"In a pig's ass you will, Stubbin," replied the stick-thin elf. "Obmi'tl want no such business close to Verbobonc. We are to pass as quietly through the border as possible, and that means we act like goody-goodies there."
Stubbin, a broad-shouldered mountain dwarf, made a rude gesture at Keak in reply, but he did not argue. If Keak said that (he boss wanted no trouble, then Stubbin had no desire to cross him. Obmi was one mean dwarf, and nobody to screw around with.
Nothing that saw them cared to molest so ugly a group as this company was, and just as predicted, they rode into the village of Hommlet at evening the next day. The Inn of the Welcome Wench, accustomed to accommodating caravans, easily housed their number. There were suspicious looks, but no one questioned their money. Horses were fed and rested while the company dined heartily and slept in soft beds. Next morning, Obmi haggled with a pair of traders for provisions and a half-dozen fresh horses. Then the company continued northward. They were watched by hard-eyed men-at-arms serving the local lord, but nobody cared to delay their departure.
Obmi was even more silent than usual, and he appeared haggard, as if a night spent in a feather bed was worse for him than one spent rolled in a blanket on the ground. Only the wicked dwarf knew the true cause of his condition. As he had slept, ebon tendrils had stolen into his brain – long, slender tentacles as insubstantial as fog yet strong as steel. The tendrils thickened and grew barbs that hurt cruelly, bringing him instantly awake and making him aware of what was happening, Iuz was in contact, and his master was not pleased with Obmi's performance! The dwarf grovelled mentally as the rasping voice of the cambion spoke through the tendrils directly to his brain.
"Little fool!" Iuz shrieked mentally. "Your stupid meandering and pillaging has left so broad and easy a trail that even idiot puppets can follow! Do you have… it?" At this question, Obmi thought of the misshapen object he guarded so carefully. He did so without meaning to, but Iuz instantly caught the thought. "Good! Now I shall not have to waste a useful tool – you will live for a while yet, Obmi!"
Quivering in fear and rage, the dwarf sent a mental message in reply, while carefully masking the thoughts that lurked deeper within his mind. "Thank you, Lord of Evil, for your generosity. I am your servant to do with what you will…"
"Enough!" interrupted Iuz. "I must hurry, for some great cloud is gathering, and in moments this contact will be broken. I can not see what is around you, but it is dangerous – powerful! Good lies nearby, but some friendly force as well, I think, for this force is obscured and hidden. Perhaps it is a trap set by those righteous weaklings who seek to oppose me… No matter.
"Listen carefully, and do not fail me. Leave immediately, but do so without commotion. Go to Verbobonc, being careful to be open and seemingly carefree. Once well beyond the town, leave an obvious trail to the northeast, doing what you have done previously – robbing, murdering, raping, burning. It must seem that you are on your way to Molag, understand?"
"I understand, Lord," thought Obmi in reply.
The wisps within the dwarfs brain sent tingling pleasure through Obmi's body. "Excellent, my faithful servant! Do well, and your reward will be all you can ask" – and suddenly the tendrils were barbed and painful again – "but if you fail, such pain as this will seem a blissful reprieve from the torment you shall suffer! Now, stop cringing and attend my final instructions.
"Leave those clods who serve you to their fate. Divide when you reach the Att River. Send them on toward the lands of the Hierarchs, but you ride for your life northward. Enter the Vesve, and I will have an army there to greet you. This force will convey you in triumph to me in Dorakaa."
"But, Lord Iuz, how am I to convince them to…" Obmi let the mental question trail off, for the tendrils were gone from his brain. He could sense that he was alone within his head. Hatred mixed with fear poured from the dwarfs mind, helping him to blank out the headache that the contact had caused. He said aloud, "Damn you, Iuz, for the pig-bastard you are! Someday I, Obmi the Wily, shall become ruler of your realm, and you will cringe before me in abject terror at the fate I will bestow upon you!" Then, not wasting further effort on his hatred, the dwarf began to lay his plans for accomplishing the orders of the cambion, Iuz.
Ten days later, the company turned on the train of pilgrims and merchants they had been accompanying, some as travelers, others purporting to be guards. Treachery and surprise enabled Obmi to succeed with surprising ease, and only three of his number were lost in the process. The company was near the crossroads that made the area important. A well-repaired road ran east and west, from Furyondy to Veluna City, while another ran southward from Littleberg to Verbobonc. The site was perfect, of course.
"Take everything of value, Gleed, and lead the men toward Dyvers. At the main fork, take the Willip Road. Your destination is Molag!"
The gnome stared at Obmi in surprise. "Molag? What business have we with the Hierarchs?" he asked.
"They will receive us happily, and pay for our services and information. Am I to be questioned further?" As he posed his question, Obmi placed his hand on his hammer. Gleed shook his head, but there was doubt in the gnome's squinting eyes as Obmi went on. "Keak and I will take the useless steeds and lay a false trail toward the north. You make sure that your trail is well covered by using only the road as long as possible. We'll lead any pursuit as far as Littleberg, lose ourselves there, and then come cross-country to join you… let us say Boulder-ford on the Veng River, fifty leagues north of Willip." Gleed thought a moment, then nodded. The gnome had mentally pictured the route and arrived at the conclusion that the two routes were of about equal length and would conjoin at the ford, just as Obmi had suggested.
"An excellent plan, Master Obmi! The loot…"
Obmi shrugged his massive shoulders, feigning resignation. "For once I have to trust you fully, gnome. I must travel quickly and cleverly to lay the false trail, then be able to disappear. All the goods, even the silver and gold, must go with your group. I am charging you with safe keeping of the spoils until I rejoin the company – fail me, and I swear I will hunt you down and slay you!"
At that Gleed grinned, then quickly replaced the look with one of sober acquiescence. "Your orders, Obmi, are always faithfully followed by your servant, Gleed. Never fear, we shall be at the Boulderford as commanded. Give us two weeks." The dwarf scratched his beard, staring at Gleed as he did so, a mixture of doubt and consideration playing across his leathery countenance. Finally he nodded. " Let us say two and a half weeks – eighteen days – so that unexpected delays are covered. If you are not there within the allotted time, I shall seek you out," Obmi concluded with a threatening tone.
"Eighteen days, Master. I will be there!"
The gnome went off then to gather the company, while Obmi sought out the skinny Keak. This was almost too easy, thanks to the greed of the gnome, Obmi thought as he smiled merrily to himself.
Chapter 11
The high court of Celene was ablaze with light. Queen Yolande was celebrating the midsummer with a grand ball this night. High above carpets as green as the rich summer grass, domed ceilings showed the black velvet of the cloudless sky with its myriad stars and the full faces of both moons, pale Luna and azure Celene.